


Another Chip in the Pile

by rynling



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynling/pseuds/rynling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Setzer mourns Daryl with the help of a friend who has less than honorable intentions. When Owzer returns with Setzer after a night of drinking, the comfort he has to offer forces Setzer to confront the fact that he is still alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Chip in the Pile

Setzer stumbled back to his lodgings, drunk and unsteady on his feet. During his former sojourns in Jidoor, he would not have been coming back alone, but the days of women in flashy dresses and private parties on the Blackjack were behind him now.

As he made his way across the cobblestones of the city's central piazza, Setzer reflected on how the thrill of gambling had faded since he lost his partner Daryl. The joys of flying, too, seemed empty. Ever since reconstructing his friend's airship and laying it to rest in an underground hangar, Setzer had traveled from city to city simply out of habit. Winning high-stakes games brought no comfort, so he had stopped trying. Money was plentiful and of no concern, so Setzer found other ways to lose himself. He could not find the energy to work, and the flirtations of women exhausted him, but there was always wine and the whiskey that came after it.

It was thus that Setzer found himself lurching through the lobby of one of Jidoor's premier hotels and collapsing onto a beautifully upholstered armchair next to a towering fireplace. He rested his forehead against his fist and waited for the room to stop spinning.

A glass of sparkling water appeared in front of him. It was held by Owzer, an art collector and one of the richest men in a city famous for its wealth. Setzer took the glass and drank after raising a questioning eyebrow.

"I followed you back from the casino, old friend," Owzer offered. "It seemed like you might need a shoulder to cry on."

"No offense, old friend," Setzer responded, "but piss off."

"Is that any way to talk to me, you shameless cad?" Owzer smiled. "I'm sure you conspired not to notice, but it wasn't easy to cover your abrupt exit this evening."

"That's no concern of mine." Setzer met Owzer's eyes. "I'm going to sleep until noon, and then I'm going to get the fuck out of this city."

"You clean our pockets every time you grace us with your presence. One would think you owe the socialites a bit more civility."

"I owe them no such thing. Besides, they patronize me for my pretty face." Setzer lifted his facial muscles in an exaggerated smile, stretching the scars that marked his left cheek and lower jaw.

"As charming as ever, I see."

Setzer drained the glass, set it down on a nearby table, and rose to his feet. "I think it's time for me to pass out. I bid you good night."

With that, he stalked out of the lounge. He made his way down a corridor and to his room, a first-floor suite. He opened the door and tripped to the side, falling against the wall of the foyer. He slid down to the floor and hung his head between his knees. He didn't feel sick, just tired.

Setzer closed his eyes. Gods, how he missed her.

The door swung open, striking Setzer's outstretched leg. He looked up to see Owzer peering down at him.

"Are you so pathetic that you can't even close your door, you drunken fool?" Owzer asked, exasperated.

"Does the concept 'fuck off' mean nothing to you?" Setzer scowled.

"I make a habit of not heeding the words of men who reek of debauchery." Owzer knelt and slung one of Setzer's arms around his shoulders, supporting him as he struggled to stand.

Setzer barked harsh laughter. "You know, Owzer, one might think you have less than honorable intentions, barging into my room so late at night." His breathing was heavy with the effort of standing, and his face was flushed with alcohol.

Owzer considered his words for a moment. "I won't deny it," he said softly before pressing his lips against Setzer's.

Setzer pushed him away and fell against the wall. He glared up at Owzer. "You've worn out your welcome. Leave."

Owzer stepped forward, wrestled Setzer to his feet, and kissed him again, pinning him against the wall. Setzer turned his face to the side. Owzer pressed his body against Setzer's and slid his hand between them, unbuttoning Setzer's shirt.

"I hate to see you like this, suffering because of that woman," he said. "She may be gone, but you're still here."

Setzer groaned, and Owzer bit his earlobe. He ran his hand up Setzer's belly and onto his chest. He found one of Setzer's nipples and twisted it, drawing tight circles with his finger as it grew harder. Setzer made a feeble attempt to break free, but the pressure of Owzer's body and the force of his hand against his shoulder kept him in place.

Setzer was by no means a frail man. Although it was his money and his genius that built airships, he could haul an engine block as well as any tradesman. If this labor did nothing to toughen his skin, then the occasional barroom fight certainly did. Under his tailored clothing, Setzer's body was hardened with muscle and crossed with scars. In other circumstances, he could have easily pushed Owzer away and sent him home. Whether it was due to his drunkenness or to his self-pity, however, he could not find the strength to resist his friend's advances. A weakness in his legs and a weakness in his will trapped him between the wall and Owzer's hot breath. Setzer could feel his body beginning to react even as Owzer's own reaction pressed against his leg.

"So you've come alive at last," Owzer muttered. He dropped his mouth to Setzer's neck as he ran his hand down from his chest to his waist, unzipping his pants. Setzer's cock pushed forward, straining against the fabric of his underwear. Setzer shut his eyes and tried to control his breathing as Owzer maneuvered it through the slit in the fabric and into the warm space between them. Owzer grasped it firmly in his hand and ran his thumb along its underside before circling the head. A drop of white emerged from the tip, and Setzer's body shuddered. Owzer grabbed the length of Setzer's cock and held it tightly, moving the skin a fraction of an inch up and down, very slowly.

"Come now, this won't do. How long has it been since you used this thing? You're too sensitive, too sensitive by far," Owzer rasped into Setzer's ear as he continued to move his hand in small twists. "This is no fun at all. I suppose we need to go ahead and finish you off."

Owzer removed a jar of lotion from the pocket of his overcoat and spread it onto his hand before applying it to Setzer's cock. As he pinched a nipple between the flats of his fingers and slid his oiled right hand along the naked length below, Owzer returned his lips to Setzer's ear.

"Did you really think, after she died, that you would never love again? Did you really think that you would never stick your dick inside another woman?" Owzer's hand kept time with his words, accenting his phrases. "You think life is over for you, but it seems your body disagrees. Look how hard you are."

"Fuck you," Setzer growled between breaths.

"That would make me very happy," Owzer responded. "But perhaps you'd like me to stop?" He ceased his hand, and Setzer groaned. The hardness between his legs quivered.

"Then again, it seems such a shame to leave off here." Owzer grasped Setzer's cock again, no longer teasing it but working it in swift, efficient strokes that pressed Setzer's arched back against him and brought short moans from between his lips. With a final, guttural sound, Setzer ejaculated into the air, his cock twitching as Owzer continued to coax it.

When Setzer was finally spent, Owzer allowed him to collapse onto the floor. Leaving Setzer's crumpled body behind him, Owzer began to unbutton his own shirt as he walked into the suite. To call it luxurious would be an understatement; the room would best be described as palatial. From the apex of the vaulted ceiling hung a chandelier whose glass tears refracted the lights of Jidoor's entertainment district, which glittered through the room's huge bay windows. Below the chandelier was an ornately carved table upon which stood a frosted oil lantern whose low flame cast a warm glow into the room. Owzer draped his shirt over one of the richly upholstered chairs that circled the table.

He ran his fingers over the plush velvet upholstery. Leave it to Setzer to surround himself with such opulence, he thought to himself. Unlike many who profited from the southern empire's lust for technology, Setzer brandished his money indiscriminately, as if he had always had it and always would. The man was a flame of fresh wealth that burned brightly against the closed society of Jidoor's plutocracy, and his flippant attitude and brash laughter had won many sympathies.

Owzer turned to look at Setzer, who still lay where he had fallen. His shirt had crept down his arms and fallen away behind him.

Owzer strode over to Setzer and nudged him with his boot. Setzer groaned and rolled over onto his back. "Are you still here?" he asked. "I hoped that I would open my eyes and find you gone."

"Do you intend to spend the night there?"

"Is this not a reasonable place to sleep?"

"Not if you don't intend to wake up with your face glued to the carpet by your own seed."

Setzer grudgingly turned his face toward Owzer. "It wouldn't be the first time, and I doubt it would be the last." He rose to his feet and walked past Owzer into the sitting room, steadying himself against the table. Looking around the room, he furrowed his brow. "I say, Owzer, what is your shirt doing on the sofa?"

Owzer watched Setzer's face, lit by the soft glow of the lamp. "My gods, you're gorgeous," he remarked and crossed the distance between them. Before Setzer could object, Owzer grasped his face in his hands and kissed him. Setzer received his kiss with an open mouth and placed his free hand against Owzer's back, drawing him closer. Owzer twined a fistful of Setzer's hair between his fingers. While kissing Owzer hungrily, Setzer shimmied out of his pants.

Owzer's desire had reached its limit. He stretched an arm to the pocket of his discarded overcoat and recovered his lube, which he spread onto himself as Setzer watched, his eyes growing wide with dawning realization. He flipped himself over and made a lunge for the sofa, but Owzer tackled him back to the floor. Setzer struggled briefly but made no serious attempt shrug him off. Owzer quickly slid his greased hand over Setzer before pressing him to the floor and penetrating him.

Setzer's shirt pooled around his shoulders. His forehead was pressed against the floor between his elbows. He could see each fiber of the carpet. His senses, which had grown mercifully fuzzy from the effects of the alcohol, were now viciously clear. With each thrust of Owzer's hips, a bright stab of pleasure raced up his spine.

As Owzer moved behind him, Setzer's cock tapped his abdomen rhythmically, harder than it had been during Owzer's earlier ministrations. Setzer shifted his weight onto his left arm, wanting to reach his right hand beneath him, but his pride prevented him from following through. He could feel rivulets of lube oozing down the bare skin of his thighs.

"Tell me," Setzer growled, unsuccessfully attempting to keep his voice steady, "is this how the cultured men of Jidoor comfort their friends?"

"I had no idea you were so provincial. This is how cultured men have always comforted their friends. For such a boorish churl, I'm surprised you still have your wits about you. I'd have thought you'd be screaming my name by now."

"You know, Owzer," Setzer panted, no longer able to control his labored breathing, "I've always thought you were a bit of a drama queen."

"That's not a very nice thing to say." As if in retaliation, Owzer tightened his grip on Setzer's hips. "Why pretend you're not enjoying this? You'd be better served by putting your hand where it wants to go."

Setzer grimaced and struggled against his desire to do just that.

"But if you're going to be stubborn, I suppose I'll have to help you."

Owzer leaned forward over Setzer's back and roughly pulled his hand down over his cock, jerking it in time to his thrusts. Although this position forced Owzer to slow down, the change in angle made them both gasp. Owzer's hand was clumsy in such a position, but his touch still spread a white-hot heat between Setzer's legs.

Setzer felt himself losing control. Owzer was a tempered length of steel inside him, pushing again and again against a sweet and tender spot.

Setzer felt Owzer's short gasps in his ears and on his skin as he pushed himself forward into Setzer harder and harder yet. In his abandonment to his own pleasure, Owzer loosened his hand on Setzer's cock, so Setzer braced himself on his left arm, placed his right hand over Owzer's, and then began to move his wrist. His mind was disappearing, but his body took care of itself, and the two hands glided relentlessly up and down. Owzer's chest lay flat across Setzer's back, and he thrust himself into Setzer desperately, punctuating his ecstasy with short, bestial sounds.

Setzer's breaths had become low moans, one after the other. He felt his orgasm spreading like a stain. It was impossible for him to live with so much pleasure. His head was gone, his arm against the floor was gone, Daryl and her airship were gone, and all that was left was the burning tension in his cock. Owzer grunted and thrust himself into Setzer, tightening his hand in a corkscrewing downward stroke. This broke the dam of pleasure inside Setzer, and he came, his cock spasming again, and again, and again.

<> <> <> <> <> <> <>

As Owzer rose and cleaned himself with a handkerchief, Setzer stumbled to one of the couches and sat down. He took an inventory of himself. Although he was by now no longer drunk, his body throbbed in at least half a dozen places. His shirt was ruined, and his breath was rank. He turned his face toward the chandelier above him. He craved a bath, and a cigarette; he just couldn't decide which should come first. The first light of dawn tinted the sky outside the windows.

Owzer sat down beside him, shrugging into his shirt and refastening his cufflinks. "You look like you could use some sleep, old friend."

Setzer smirked and said nothing.

"And I should inform you that you smell foul. Be sure to wash yourself properly before I return. This evening, we're going to the opera."


End file.
